Rewriting History
by CountessMorgana
Summary: You are cordially invited to the wedding feast of Monifa and Amanikhareqerem of Kush. Dress is formal, and presents are optional. Expect sibling squabbles, assassination plots, and plenty of drinking all around... Pax Romanus, Part III.
1. Pax Romanus I

**Rewriting History  
Pax Romanus: Part I  
By: CountessMorgana**

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**In the episode 'Rewriting History', we are shown a past in Edwardian times that bore heavily similarities to the here and now. Is it perhaps true that what is, will be, not only in the future but in the past? **

**Four eras. Four vastly different periods of human civilisation, yet no matter how much things and the world of men change, some things will forever remain the same. **

**Time to turn back the clock. Take a look, and see what might have been…**

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**Rome, circa 190 A.D.**

The streets of the _forum cuppendium_ were crowded with vendors hawking their wares, and all manner of customer and merchandise. Housewives, freedmen and servants alike milled amongst the squawking animals destined to end up as meals, blades of all shapes and sizes, crockery for tables, tack for the stables, jewels, wines, spices, cloth and textiles. While the vendors plied their trades, pickpockets and thieves did theirs; not a moment passed without at least one Roman discovering a missing purse. It seemed impossible for the tide of humanity to cease its ebb and flow for even a second to allow passage unmolested.

_"Make way! Make way!"_

Her escort's voice had little effect on the masses other than few curious or dispassionate glances. She quirked an eyebrow, and the large man shrugged in apology.

"Try again. Once more, at least."

"Lady, it will be the fourth time. I have spoken thus before and I speak thus again: they will not step aside unless they know what person of rank demands such honour."

The lady herself sighed and drew her veil back, just far enough so her face could be seen yet her red tresses remained modestly covered.

"I had hoped to go unnoticed. The Senate requested of me...well, I would hate to further antagonize their ill-will towards me."

The escort, who doubled as her guard, was suitably horrified. "Your person is _intoccabile_, Lady, untouchable! Holy! To lay even a finger with malice on you would mean death to the one who did thus!"

"Bonita may have thought the same, Dolorrex," the woman answered. "You know what they did to her."

Dolorrex lowered his head. "Forgive me, lady. It was not so long ago."

"It seems we have no choice, Dolorrex," she said wryly after a pause. "The wishes of the Senate cannot reasonably apply here. And if anyone should be foolish enough to approach without leave, you may – what was it you said?"

"I would send them down, Lady," Dolorrex replied.

"By that, I assume you mean down to the boatman sooner than they would wish."

"I meant to the ground," Dolorrex admitted, stepping out into the forum's street. "But the boatman fits well. Once they've gone down, they may have to wait for Charon to return after Bonita's crossing."

Green eyes narrowed. "Please, do not speak to me of Bonita."

The man nodded, turned to the crowds, and bellowed, "_Make way!_ Make way for Kaesa Antonia Postumia, priestess and servant of Vesta! MAKE WAY FOR VIRGO VESTALIS!"

Dolorrex's words produced an immediate effect: The vendors nearest stopped hawking, their customers stopped bartering, and all took one look, stepped back, and bowed.

And with Dolorrex shouting and clearing her path, so did the Vestal Virgin named Kaesa Postumia proceed through the forum. Everyone she passed treated her with deference and honour. A few threw flowers towards her, while others shouted words of praise. One woman darted forward to press a golden hair ornament into her hand. Kaesa tried to return it, but the woman refused.

"A gift to you, _integra_. You once saved my son, and I have not forgotten. Please, take what little I can offer in thanks." she said, bowing deeply and waiting for Kaesa to move on before she went back to her stall.

A few more minutes passed in this vein, until she and Dolorrex reached another clearing in the forum. Why was not apparent until Dolorrex shouted, _"HOLD!"_ and Kaesa, with a sinking feeling, focused on the tableau in front of her.

In the centre of the clearing was a large, tall wooden column, its base set deep beneath the dirt and cobblestones of the forum. A boy, not much older than Kaesa herself, was chained to the column, his tunic torn so his back was exposed. Two men stood nearby, one garbed in the robes of a _prefectus urbanus_. The other man had froze, wielding a massive flagellum, poised to land a punishing blow to the chained boy, that, if not killing him, would surely scar him for the rest of his life. Upon seeing Kaesa, the flagellum bearer lowered his whip, resignation in his features. Meanwhile—

"Who dares to oppose the will of the Senate and the people of Rome?" the Prefectus Urbanus, a small and unimposing man, shouted angrily. A papyrus roll, containing the details of the crime and punishment, was clutched in his hand. "What man dares to challenge my authority?"

Silence from the watching crowd, and Dolorrex gave Kaesa an encouraging nod. Frowning, Kaesa looked from the trio at the column, to her bodyguard, back again, and to Dolorrex once more. Her escort had a silently pleading expression on his face, and Kaesa sighed, resolving to interrogate Dolorrex on this the moment she returned home to the _Atrium Vestae_.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Kaesa stepped forward and spoke loudly and clearly.

"I do, Prefectus."

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They'd flogged people to death before in the forums. Ronicus knew that much.

Public executions were a way of life in Rome. It provided gossip, entertainment for those who couldn't get into the Colosseum, and a fearsome example for the lawbreakers of the city.

Two weeks ago, a pair of vicious dogs had mauled a slave chained to a column much like Ronicus was now. The slave's master had accused him of thievery – his wife's valuable pearl earrings had gone missing, only to be discovered beneath the slave's sleeping pallet. There were other ways the gems could have gotten to where they were found, the work of the family cat perhaps, but it was the word of the master over the slave.

Yet it was the execution from one moon ago that made Ronicus ill, considering his own circumstances. Bruttius Flaccus, a promising prospective gladiator, was from the same training school as Ronicus. This crime was much more serious than simple theft – Bruttius was the accomplice of Bonita Petra Murusia, a former Vestal Virgin, who was sworn to chastity until her thirty years of service at the Temple of Vesta were over.

Evidently, Bonita couldn't wait that long. And it was no less a person than the _Pontifex_, one of Rome's Head Priests, who had caught them together.

Stephanus Barrius Scipio, Pontifex, was forced to report the indiscretion to the Emperor, who as _Pontifex Maximus_ was Barrius' superior in the religious hierarchy. As Pontifex Maximus, the Emperor had immediately decreed the traditional death penalty for Bruttius and the disgraced Bonita.

They forced Bonita to watch as Bruttius was whipped to death at the Forum Boarium. There was screaming and begging for mercy from both the girl and the young man. Their pleas fell on deaf ears; over the last thousand years, over twenty-two guilty Vestals and their accomplices had perished for their actions. Stephanus Barrius could not allow an exception, not when the Emperor himself had given the order.

Ronicus had come across the execution by chance while it was being carried out. He'd watch, only mildly interested, until it registered just who was howling in pain under the lash, and what for. Then he'd fled, back to the school, where he vomited into the pig stall. The pigs glared at him, but Ronicus was too shocked to care. It was a little later that he began to ask of the fate of the Vestal and found out what happened to her. What he heard merited another trip to the pig stall.

And life went on as usual. The names of Bruttius and Bonita faded from the tongues and thoughts of the populace. At the Temple of Vesta, Bonita had even undergone a form of _damnatio memoriae_; her name was not spoken, her belongings had apparently been destroyed, and her birth family denied her existence. To deny Bonita's memory was an act which her birth sisters Constantia and Longinia had no trouble with, as they had done so ever since Bonita was taken from their father's house when chosen to become a Vestal at nine summers old.

But Ronicus did not forget. He couldn't. Bruttius and Ronicus had not been friends, but the bigger boy was amiable enough, if slow-witted. Ronicus knew Bonita's face, as the girl who would sometimes come to the gates at night for Bruttius, if Bruttius didn't leave to go to her first. Unpleasant she might have been to Ronicus, but Ronicus was sure not even Bonita deserved such a savage sentence for her misdeeds.

And now Ronicus was to suffer the same fate as Bruttius. Unlike Bruttius, Ronicus was innocent of all the charges laid against him. It was as if the case of the thieving slave and Bruttius were combined and thrust upon Ronicus. No one would take the word of a boy who was little better than a slave over the Prefectus Urbanus, who had brought the case against Ronicus.

The flagellant had raised his instrument, cocked his wrist, ready to strike. Ronicus closed his eyes and prayed for a quick death.

_"HOLD!"_

It wasn't easy, but Ronicus could turn his head just enough to see who had taken a stand for him. He couldn't understand _why_, though – wait. That was Dolorrex!

Ronicus was a student at the gladiator school run by Dolorrex's brother, Pollex Chalybis. Both were famous, former gladiators who had dispatched their opponents with terrifying ease while working in tandem. There had been times when they were forced to fight each other, but always the enthralled Romans had, in the end, shouted for the fallen one to live and the Emperor, final judge of these matters, always concurred. They were much better and more entertaining as a team than alone.

Until one day, when a terrified adversary had pulled out a knife as Dolorrex was bearing down on him for the kill. The man made a desperate, wild stab upwards...

He died anyway, as did any chance of Dolorrex's future offspring entering the world.

Such a public humiliation had led to the retirement of both brothers. Pollex Chalybis opened his training stable, and Dolorrex would visit on occasion to fight and critique the would-be gladiators. He remained as large as ever, and it was only a few who could work up the courage to cross swords with him. Ronicus idolized both men, and hoped for a day where he might achieve as great a success. Dolorrex caught Ronicus' eye and winked even as he turned to the person just beside and behind him.

Ronicus had not known where Dolorrex spent his time outside the training school until now. What was he doing here in the forum, and his garb – was he guarding someone? There was a flash of white linen – that must be a girl with him. Huh. It seemed odd for a former gladiator to enter service as a mere escort and guard, unless the girl there was Caesar's own daughter—

Then she stepped out, a fine wool veil barely hiding her red hair. Green eyes like the _Mare Mediterraneus_. Her _stola_, a length of patterned blue and green Oriental silk, was draped over her white linen tunic, while something small and golden glinted in her hand.

And Ronicus could barely think or see beyond her, other than that not even the Naiads themselves were as beautiful.

Then that short, ugly man, the prefect, promptly broke into his thoughts by beginning to laugh. "You? Oh, but this is amusing! On what grounds, woman, do you say I have no right to punish this boy for his crimes?"

Ronicus burst out, his partially muffled voice shouting, "I've done nothing! You're the one who's the criminal, Jacobus Querceus!"

"Silence!" the little man screamed at the chained figure, waving the papyrus roll at him. "You'll pay your penance! And you, woman, I ask again – what power do you have to overturn this one's sentence?"

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"I am Kaesa Antonia Postumia, Virgo Vestalis." The watching masses began to murmur and whisper at her pronouncement, and the prefect Jacobus Querceus' triumphant expression faded slightly. Supported by this reaction, Kaesa raised her voice. "Furthermore, a Vestal is sacrosanct. Any condemned who encounter a Vestal are granted an immediate pardon and released. So say the laws and traditions of the Senate and the people of Rome. You are overruled, prefect. Release your prisoner!"

The prefect's look of triumph was by now gone completely, replaced by fury.

"He must be punished!" Querceus shrieked, stamping his feet and for all the world acting as a tempermental child, not noticing as Dolorrex took the papyrus from his stubby fingers or that the flagellant had already moved to unlock the chains binding Ronicus to the post. "He robbed the daughter of Lucius Flavius of her virtue in the night! Her father has demanded satisfaction! And you, you say I'm to simply _release_ him?"

"I don't even know Lucius Flavius, OR his daughters!" the boy at the column yelled, inadvertently shouting into the flagellant's ear.

"I told you to be SILENT! I saw you with her, and I will see you dead for it! And YOU, flagellant, I gave no order for his release! Re-chain him!"

The flagellant did not pause in the middle of freeing Ronicus' wrists.

"Flagellant, did you not hear me!"

Ronicus spoke up. "I think I deafened him, yelling right in his ear and all."

Kaesa Postumia, in the interim, had opened and was reading the papyrus Dolorrex had retrieved from the prefect. An idea came to her, it was risky, but it might work. She whispered in Dolorrex's ear.

Interrupting the increasingly childish and juvenile war of words between the prefect and the prisoner, Dolorrex bellowed,

"Prefectus, when did the assault occur?"

The little man stopped trying to take the whip from the flagellant to answer. "On the Mercuralia, two and ten days ago."

"And which daughter of Lucius Flavius is no longer inviolate?"

There was a pause. "Tarpeia Flavia Regulia. What of it?" the man snarled at last.

Kaesa Postumia stepped forward. "I knew Tarpeia Flavia Regulia. She has been dead this last fortnight. One of us here is a liar, prefectus. You, or me."

The masses began to whisper, which broke the prefect's resolve.

"She would always look at him, always!" The prefect shouted in rage. "I had offered for her hand, if she was to have been anyone's, she would have been mine! But she refused me! She rejected me, because her affections were on that son of a sow!" Here Querceus pointed at a very surprised Ronicus.

"She did?" Ronicus said in surprise. "That's news to me. I never noticed."

"It is _because_ you never noticed her she died, you buffoon!" Querceus screamed. "You never saw how she looked at you, but I did! I did, and it would kill me! Every look she gave you sickened me, and I saw every glance, and you never – you never—"

As the prefect continued to shriek his way into apoplexy, Kaesa raised an eyebrow and turned to Dolorrex. "You knew about this, didn't you? You knew about this, and you deliberately brought me here, because I would be able to free him. The debate was a bonus."

Dolorrex glanced sidelong at Kaesa. "I am indebted to you, am I not?"

"Indeed. Shall we go now?"

Dolorrex nodded. "Let us take Ronicus back to my brother's house first."

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**Rome, Imperial Residence, Palatine Hill**

Mad laughter echoed from the Emperor's chambers. "My armies in Britannica are victorious! Londonium has been retaken!"

"But my Lord Caesar, we still encounter resistance. The Gauls refuse to acknowledge us as the victors. Just before the messenger left, the barbarians burned down three of our ships, and all of the surrounding farmlands. They burned half the town while they were at it, true, but the fact remains that it is a severe blow to the Roman morale."

"What does it matter, so long as Boudicca has not been reborn and the lands still belong to us!"

"If Caesar says so," the general said, suppressing a shudder at the name of Boudicca. Though it had been over 100 years since the Celtic queen had staged her infamous uprising against Roman rule and razed Londonium to the ground, the fear that a similar leader would follow in her stead remained constant in the hearts of any Roman sent to Britannica. The general was no exception.

The general's emperor was indignant. "If _I_ say so? I _do _say so!"

"Yes, Caesar."

Decius Julius Caesar, Emperor of Rome and _alias_ Dracus Maximus, grinned smugly and sat back on his throne. Oblivious to him, his general sighed in quiet frustration and glanced beseechingly at the gilded chair beside the Emperor, on which sat the Emperor's long-suffering wife.

Examining her nails and wondering yet again why in Juno's name she had agreed to marry the man, Furia Augusta Gordia Femina rolled her eyes. Pale complexioned, with a rare but striking combination of black hair and green eyes, it was often said Caesar's wife was surely the most beautiful mortal woman in the Empire. Granted, such had been said for nearly all the Empresses who were her predecessors, but in the case of Augusta Gordia Femina, the oft-used compliment could very well be true.

"Perhaps this could be discussed at a later time, general," she said pointedly. The military man got the hint and took a respectful leave of the imperial couple. The real power in the Roman Empire sat not in Caesar's chair, but in that beside it. Everyone knew that. Everyone, it seemed, but Caesar himself, and Augusta Gordia Femina was perfectly content to have the situation remain as it was.

"Next!" Dracus Maximus said pompously.

_"Imperator! Imperator! **CAESAR!**"_ Dracus Maximus and Gordia Femina looked on in mild interest as a little man wearing the toga of a prefectus urbanus came rushing into the room.

"Caesar!" the prefect exclaimed. "She has done it again! She undermines your authority still, even after the Senate made its request! She defies the Senate, and she defies your people, your Empire!"

"You mean Boudicca _has_ been reborn?" Dracus Maximus exclaimed in horror, jumping to his feet. Gordia Femina quashed the urge to groan.

"The Vestal, Lord Caesar," the prefect nearly wailed. "Kaesa Antonia Postumia! She is notorious for this injustice. Her rank allows any criminal or prisoner she comes across to be pardoned and released!"

"What's wrong with that?" Dracus Maximus asked. "It's not as if she'd go walking around the forums all day freeing everyone!" He laughed at his own joke, before realising nobody was laughing with him. "What – you mean – she'd really do that?"

"Yes, Caesar. This Vestal would go for walks every day in the Forum Romanus – and half the criminals of Rome would go free. The Senate requested she stop; she had, and now after this they're bound to be outraged! The executioners were complaining they weren't getting enough criminals to execute! The people's safety is at risk, Caesar, and you are the people!"

Dracus Maximus wasn't really listening. "Vestal, Vestal... Wasn't there a Vestal Virgin who was executed a moon or so ago?" he asked Gordia Femina.

"Yes, she was caught breaking her vow of chastity," Gordia Femina said, bored. "We were at her entombing, remember?"

"Ahhh, that brunet girl and that big Flavian goon?" Dracus smirked. "Haven't seen sport like that for quite some time... Maybe we should reopen the Colosseum, get some games started, Jupiter only knows I'm bored just sitting here listening to people whining..."

"Caesar?" the annoying prefect asked. "Caesar!"

"Hmmm, what?"

"Caesar, what are you going to do about that impudent Vestal?" the little man pressed.

Dracus Maximus frowned at the pompous man. "Oh, it's you. What's your name again?"

The prefectus urbanus looked torn between annoyed and flattered. The latter won out. "I am Jacobus Querceus, Caesar, city prefect and your most loyal—"

"Make a note," Dracus Maximus said loudly over the prefect, and across on the other side of Caesar's throne, a scribe began to write hurriedly, "that, ah, this man was taken to the dungeons on this day, for the crime of public nuisance!"

"But, but—!" Jacobus Querceus was sputtering in indignation. "Caesar, how can my actions be public?"

"You said yourself, Caesar is the people, and since you're annoying me, you are also annoying the people," Dracus Maximus sniffed.

"Such _irrefutable_ logic," Gordia Femina muttered under her breath.

"Probably annoyed all those market people at the forum too," Dracus went on. "No wonder that Vestal went and stepped in, good for her. Guards, take this man away, and tell that monkey man—"

"Does Caesar mean Manius Simius Orientus of the Senate?" the scribe asked with a quizzical brow.

"Yes, the monkey man, tell him to get some other citizen to be a prefectus urbanus!"

Jacobus Querceus shrieked and whinged as he was carted off by a pair of boorish guards. On his throne, Dracus Maximus grinned broadly.

"I do like this!" he said to no one in particular. "It's good to be Caesar."

And on either side of the Emperor, his wife and scribe exchanged long, exasperated glances. Some might say this really couldn't go on, but it would...

At least, as long as Gordia Femina allowed it.

**To be Continued...**

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Though the names of some characters are obvious links to their modern counterparts, others are more obscure. Below are the Latinised (Roman) KP characters, with their 21st century descendants in brackets.

_**In Order of Appearance/Mention:**_

Kaesa Antonia Postumia, _virgo vestalis_ (Kimberly Ann Possible)  
Dolorrex (Pain King)

Ronicus (Ron Stoppable)  
Bruttius Flaccus (Brick Flagg)  
Bonita Petra Murusia, _prior virgo vestalis_ (Bonnie Rockwaller)

Stephanus Barrius Scipio, _Pontifex_, High Priest of Rome (Mr. Steve Barkin)  
Pollex Chalybis (Steel Toe)

Jacobus Querceus, _prefectus urbanus_ (Jackie Oaks)  
Tarpeia Flavia Regulia (Tara King)

Emperor Decius Julius Caesar, _alias_ Dracus Maximus (Dr. Drakken)  
Empress Augusta Gordia Femina, _Caesar's wife_ (Shego)  
Senator Manius Simius Orientus, 'the monkey man' (Lord Monty Fiske/Monkey Fist)


	2. Pax Romanus II

**Rewriting History  
Pax Romanus: Part II  
By: CountessMorgana**

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**"It was found in that year, the Vestal Virgin Murusia, who before fell under suspicion of the College of Priests for her rich dress, was then accused of the crime of fornication, and was remanded. They found her guilty, and this crime being most serious in** **nature, she was sentenced to her fate in the Campus Sceleratus...**

**"In this same year Postumia, who was also a Vestal, too had to answer a charge of misconduct. Like the former, she dressed well and talked rather more freely and wittily than a young girl should, that up to a point justified the suspicion against her. She was interrogated, and found innocent, with a warning from the College of Priests to stop making jokes and to dress in future with more regard to sanctity and less to elegance."  
**

_**History of Rome (Ab Urbe Condita) by Lado Scribonianus**  
**Book VI Chapter 54: Tribunicia Murusia et Postumia**_

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After Bruttius was dead, Bonita was taken to the Campus Sceleratus, an underground chamber near the city's Colline gate. There she was stripped of her Vestal's stola, and her veil, which were cast to the ground, soaked with oil and torched until they were burned to fine ash. Her tunic was torn at the back, and two men beat her with wooden rods until her back was not more than a bloody, oozing mass of torn flesh. Nearly unconscious from the pain, she was thrown into the Campus Sceleratus. The entrance quickly rebricked by masons, Bonita was entombed alive alongside the remains of disgraced Vestals before her with a few days of food and water to prolong the punishment.

The Emperor, who had watched it all, had smiled, sipped his wine and belched. When it was done he said he was a merciful man, for neither victim had been crucified after their scourging, which he heard was by far the worst of the penalties given under Roman law. And saying so, he and his wife and entourage had left for the Imperial palace, with faint weeping from the doomed Vestal trailing after them. None of the Imperial party paid the girl any heed.

The citizens who lived near the Colline gate at first reported loud wails from the chamber. A week later, the cries had finally subsided, and the Campus Sceleratus was silent once more.

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Dolorrex walked briskly, with an unusually taciturn Kaesa Postumia on one side, and the boy Ronicus on the other. There was little the virgin priestess and the slave-gladiator could say; perhaps the memory of the fate that had befallen the last such odd pairing was plaguing their thoughts.

It was Ronicus, with a small and hesitant glance at the imposing Dolorrex, who spoke first.

"I, I must thank you, _integra_," he stuttered. "For saving me."

"It was not my doing. Thank Dolorrex here," Kaesa said warmly. "If not for him, I would not have been at the forum today, and you would be in Elysium before your time."

"Fates willing, I may still enter Elysium early. But not just yet," Ronicus said. "Right, Dolorrex?"

The giant of a man gave a small smile. "It may be so, yet such thoughts are what send many to the boatman, and even more so in the arena. Do not tempt the Fates with your words, Ronicus. Their shears may cut your life-thread at the moment you least anticipate."

"I think they will," Ronicus replied. "I'm small, and not the strongest. When the games are renewed the others will slaughter me in a moment."

"Have you forgotten my words so soon, boy?" Dolorrex asked, giving Ronicus a friendly cuff that despite its gentle nature still sent the boy nearly reeling into a wall.

"Keep your feet there, Ronicus!" Kaesa called, a laugh in her voice.

Dolorrex smiled more broadly. "The Vestal speaks true, boy. My brother says you may yet be a great contender in the arena. You perceive as your faults what may be your best attributes to survive. We will see a change there, if I have a hand in it."

"Pollex Chalybis said that?" Ronicus exclaimed, astounded.

"He did," Dolerrex answered. "All you need is confidence."

"So this is how you know each other!" Kaesa said. "Well, Dolorrex, you may breathe easy – I shan't be pestering you now!"

Ronicus saw her laughing face and grinned. "Dolorrex here was the greatest of all gladiators! When he stepped in the arena, they said even the wild cats would turn tail and flee from his sight! And his brother, the _lanista_ at the Ludus Magnus, could crush a man's head underfoot in one blow—"

"The Ludus Magnus? Right next to the Colosseum? How did you come to be a student there?" Kaesa asked with surprise.

Her query was innocent enough, but Ronicus immediately clamped his jaw shut and turned away, embarrassed. Of course – she was a Vestal, most likely chosen from the great patrician families of Rome to serve at the Temple. And the higher the rank they were, the greater the chances of them looking down upon a lowly sub-slave like himself.

Dolorrex took her expression differently, and spoke in jocular tones. "For one who I remember has no love for the blood sports, Lady, you suddenly show an interest?"

"Dolorrex—" Kaesa started, breaking off at the smirk her escort wore. "That's another debt you owe me."

"Surely not a full debt," Ronicus said, thankful for the more neutral ground. "For saving my life, yes. For an ill-timed jest, a half-debt."

"A half-debt? There is no such thing as a half-debt!" Kaesa argued.

"There isn't?" Ronicus was nonplussed. "I thought Caesar in his madness would surely have made such a thing." He smiled broadly, and flung out his arms. "If Caesar has not made one, and there should be one, then I hereby create the half-debt!"

Kaesa was speechless for a long moment. Then the corner of her mouth twitched upwards and laughter spilled forth. "Dolorrex, can we not take Ronicus with us to the Nubian wedding celebrations tonight? He is wasted as a gladiator – not half of Caesar's comedians are as amusing or witty!"

"Would that we could, Lady." Dolorrex replied, and Ronicus openly chortled.

"QUIDNAM ID REI ESSET?" a man roared.

Kaesa Postumia, Ronicus and Dolorrex all stopped in their tracks. Before them, rising to the heavens, were the walls of the Colosseum and the gates of the Ludus Magnus gladiator school. Between the gates and the trio, however, was an enormous man with an angry face.

"Pollex Chalybis," Ronicus whispered, the gigantic citizen in question striding towards them. "He's the gladiator trainer here. One of the best _lanistae_ in the Empire, and I train under him."

"Hush," Kaesa whispered back as Pollex Chalybis came to a halt.

"What is going on here?" the lanista repeated, staring at Kaesa.

"Nothing, brother. Just escorting Ronicus and Kaesa here back home."

"Dolorrex!" Pollex Chalybis shouted. "I would think you had better sense! That senator Simius Orientus just left; can you imagine his reaction if he saw this? They nearly had me flogged alongside that Flaccus boy for lax discipline no thanks to that damned Vestal! And now you would have such folly repeated? Has your duty as a guardsman to those priestesses made you so complacent?"

Kaesa reddened in the face. Ronicus shuffled a few steps away from her, deeply perusing his sandals.

"Calm yourself, brother," Dolorrex said. "There was no indiscretion."

"Their actions would have me believe otherwise," Pollex Chalybis growled, before he relaxed. "One of my best students has crossed the Styx, and another I thought was with the boatman. Manius Simius Orientus of the Senate informed me of your judicious intervention today, Lady. You have my gratitude." He bowed to Kaesa, seized Ronicus by the shoulder, and wheeled the boy around to face the gates. "And WE will have a good talk about this, boy. Get your rest, your training starts at dawnbreak!"

"_Vale_, integra!" Ronicus called over his shoulder while Pollex Chalybis marched him to the gates.

Kaesa smiled. "Vale, Ronicus. Remember, Fortune favours the brave!"

Ronicus broke into a real grin, while Pollex Chalybis laughed loudly. "Truer words were never spoken, Vestalis! Vale!"

The gates of the Ludus Magnus closed with a thunderous clash, and Dolorrex turned to Kaesa.

"Lady Postumia, we must return to the Temple. If the Senate has sent a man here, then the College of Priests will surely be awaiting your arrival."

Kaesa gave a low groan. "Dolorrex, please! Must you speak to me of the Collegium now? I will have no peace of mind for the journey home!"

"My apologies, Lady," Dolorrex said. He kept his tone respectful but was unable to keep a tiny smirk from his face.

Good thing the resentful Vestal was trudging angrily ahead of him, so he managed to get away with it just this once.

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_"Vesta, fave! Tibi nunc operata resolvimus ora, ad tua si nobis sacra venire licet. In prece totus eram: caelestia numina sensi, laetaque purpurea luce refulsit humus..."_

They had just begun singing the twilight hymn by the time Kaesa arrived at the Temple. Leaving Dolorrex at the entryway, Kaesa darted up the steps into the sanctum where the others were, took her place in the circle, and joined in the song.

_"... Ex Ope Iunonem memorant Cereremque creatas semine Saturni, tertia Vesta fuit. Utraque nupserunt, ambae peperisse feruntur, de tribus impatiens restitit una viri. Quid mirum, virgo si virgine laeta ministra admittit castas ad sua sacra manus?"_

Lips and voice forming and chanting the now-familiar words of praise to the goddess, Kaesa allowed her eyes to go from face to face in the circle. She refused to look at the space where Bonita would have been.

Instead, she focused on the slim figure standing opposite Kaesa, across from the great marble basin that housed the eternally burning hearth fire. Her dark brown hair glowed under her veil, and a cloth patch covered an empty eye socket – souvenir of a foolish drunk who dared attack the Head Vestal, _Virgo Vestalis Maxima_, with his knife.

_"...Nec tu aliud Vestam quam vivam intellege flammam: Nataque de flamma corpora nulla vides. Iure igitur virgo est, quae semina nulla remittit nec capit et comites virginitatis amat..."_

Of course, it didn't matter that he remembered nothing of the assault upon his awakening in a dungeon cell. He had injured a Vestal, and so he perished. His plight received no sympathy from Didia Directa Betiliena – she had a missing eye thanks to him.

Though the circular room of the temple was quite warm, Kaesa could not suppress a shiver as Didia Directa's remaining eye bored into hers.

_"...Esse diu stultus Vestae simulacra putavi, mox didici curvo nulla subesse tholo. Ignis inexstinctus templo celatur in illo, effigiem nullam Vesta nec ignis habet."_

The hymn complete, Betiliena lowered her arms. Her eye flickered over the younger Vestal's form with something akin to disdain. Voice slightly hoarse from singing, she said coldly,

"Kaesa Antonia Postumia! Follow me."

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Justiana Silana Postumia worriedly paced around the twin rectangular pools that were the centrepiece of the open courtyard. She prayed to Vesta that Kaesa Antonia would be allowed to go free, that Bonita Petra Murusia was in peace, and that she would be a worthy replacement for Bonita.

Most of all, Justiana hoped she would be worthy enough for her cousin to be proud of her.

Tradition held that there be no more than six Vestals serving at the Temple at any one time, and so it had been for nearly 1000 years. Two were students, learning the ways of the Temple; two were servants, the true priestesses of Vesta; and two were elders, teaching the novices. The Vestals were expected to spend at least ten years in each role before they were allowed to leave the order, though some stayed longer of their own volition. Those who left the Temple early usually did not leave voluntarily.

However, it was rare that there were two Vestals so closely related serving at once, as great pains were taken to prevent such events. On occasion Vestals would find a distant kinswoman amongst their ranks, but Justiana, chosen by the Pontifex Maximus and inducted not a day after Bonita was buried alive, was Kaesa's first cousin. The oddity of the situation with the _Vestales Postumae_ was not apparent until the other Pontifices pieced together their similar names and similar appearance. By then, it was too late to select another candidate, and the College of Priests didn't dare suggest to the Emperor he may have erred in his choice – respectful of the gods the College might be, but their respect for Caesar's dungeons was greater. As the newest of the Vestals, Justiana was often referred to as 'Postumia the Younger'. She didn't mind; the honour of simply being a Vestal was illustrious enough.

But now with Bonita dead, and Kaesa on trial, Justiana was terrified. Years before, her cousin had been her friend, and after Justiana was inducted she had latched on to Kaesa, who was kind enough to tolerate her. If the religious courts found Kaesa guilty, Justiana would be alone.

"And the others not even my age!" she said to herself. "Well, there'll be one if they replace Kaesa, but others are so much older than me! I'm sure they're nice enough, but they scare me, and Didia Directa is the worst..."

"Who would you be talking to, Justiana?" A voice said teasingly. "Would it be the birds, the dryads, or perhaps only the stones?"

Justiana jumped from fright, and then sagged in relief. "Kaesa!"

Grinning awkwardly, the taller Vestal received a strong embrace from her younger cousin.

"I thought they'd taken you to the Campus Sceleratus!" Justiana cried. "I kept walking and walking around the pools waiting – Marcella said I might wear away the stone beneath my feet before the night was over!"

Kaesa shuddered. "I can still hear Bonita's screams, even now."

Wide-eyed in horror, Justiana stumbled back. "They will execute you, then?"

"Gods, no!" Kaesa said with astonishment. "They told me to dress down, and stop going for so many walks, and leave off with my speech. And Betiliena said she'd be keeping me under observation for a fortnight. That's all."

Justiana looked at Kaesa's peacock-coloured silk robe, then over at Betiliena, who wore a far more extravagant midnight blue creation.

"She told _you_ to dress down?" Justiana asked in surprise.

"Cousin!" Kaesa exclaimed. Justiana pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. It was to no avail, and when Didia Directa Betiliena struck the gong to asssemble the Vestals in the courtyard, she also had to shout for the two Postumias to please, for love of Vesta, be quiet!

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"_Virgines!_" Betiliena called from the steps, and the Vestals in the courtyard below her ceased their chattering. "As you know, we are to attend a most auspicious celebration this night. Prince Amanikhareqerem of Kush has taken to wife Monifa of the Nok Tribes, and with their union, bringing peace to trade routes and peoples on both sides of the Great Desert!"

Cheers sallied forth from the assembled ladies. Disputes over the safety and control of the trade routes in the Great Desert had long been a sore spot, leading to deteriorating relations and intermittent open warfare. The Nubian kingdom of Kush claimed the eastern end of the roads, with the western side held by the Nok, a loose confederation of interrelated tribes based in their city on the Jos Plateau. That each would extend their claim full through to the other end of the desert was inevitable.

Rome had intervened, and initiated the peace talks that resulted in a royal wedding. Prince Amanikhareqerem was expected to become the next ruler of Kush once his father's increasingly detoriating health wore out. Monifa was the only child of the chieftain of the Nok Tribes. The marriage was highly advantegous, uniting control of the trade routes under one house; the highly-anticipated wedding feast was the social highlight of the year.

"We will leave promptly for the _Palatium_. I expect all of you to uphold the honour of our proud and ancient Order!" Betiliena said sternly.

"Or Didius Directus Spurius will never let her hear the end of it," someone murmured, provoking a fresh round of tittering. But the Head Vestal had heard, and she was not laughing.

"Who said that?" Betiliena said sharply. "Who? Was it you, Marcella? Because if it was..."

"I did not say a thing, _Vestalis Maxima_," came the humble reply.

Betiliena ground her teeth together in a rare display of rage. "I refuse to lose face before that boor the gods cursed me to be my brother! The debacle with Bonita was shameful enough – I couldn't look him in the eye for days for all his gloating! If any of you makes even the slightest of indiscretions at tonight's gathering, I'll bring the lash down on your hides myself!"

She broke off, breathing heavily. Justinia pressed closer to Kaesa, staring at the Head Vestal in fear. Marcella was spared from having to answer when Dolorrex's voice echoed in from the Temple.

"_Vestalis Maxima!_ The _carpentum_ are ready for your use."

Taking deep breaths to regain her composure, Betiliena smiled (though it was really more of a grimace) and swept down the steps to the Temple. The other Vestals followed, but Justinia gripped Kaesa's arm.

"Cousin, I have never been to the revels. What do I do?"

"Smile, eat often, and drink sparingly. Best remember that; we go to many events a season. If your thirst is too great, drink water and stay away from the wine," Kaesa said. Pausing to recall any advice she might have omitted, Kaesa thought of the gold hair ornament the market woman had given her, still in her hand after all this time.

"Once you settle down, it will be just as it was at home. Here," Kaesa said impulsively, taking the comb and placing it in her cousin's hair. "You'll be fine, and you look wonderful. Now Didia Directa can lecture us both! Come, or they'll leave without us."

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Ronicus lay on his cot, staring at the wall in the dim light. The news that he'd been spared from execution by a Vestal had spread among the trainees, and for a brief time Ronicus was the most popular young man in the Ludus Magnus.

Then somebody had mentioned Bruttius and the last Vestal who had encountered one of Ludus Magnus's students. Even after a moon, the topic was a sore subject, and talk of Ronicus and Vestals rapidly died down afterwards.

He reached out, a finger tracing the letters carved into the wall by enterprising or bored students long gone from Ludus Magnus, having moved on to the Colosseum and the uncertain fates therein. It seemed like years since he had been in Judea – and he would persist in calling his home Judea, not that _Syria Palaestina_ name the Romans insisted on using. Ronicus didn't know if he'd remember the language of his people if ever he should return home. The Romans, their customs, their Latin language, all were growing more familiar every day, a realisation that in his heart alarmed Ronicus greatly.

At least he was still allowed to pray to his god – those Christians had no such luck. With all the other long-established cultures and religions in Rome, Ronicus' faith would not make such an impact on the social order.

The scratches on the wall were a poor way to learn any language, but it was all Ronicus had to work with. Some were inspirational, such as _'Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim'_, or 'Be patient and tough; some day this pain will be useful to you', and _'Id imperfectum manet dum confectum erit'_, which meant 'It ain't over until it's over'.

Others were sobering. One said _'Forsan miseros meliora sequentur'_ (For those in misery perhaps better things will follow); another had written, _'Non mortem timemus, sed cogitationem mortis'_ (We do not fear death, but the thought of death).

And then there were the patently ridiculous, as in the case of the graffiti by the washing basin – _'In dentibus anticis frustrum magnum spiniciae habes'_. One of Ronicus' fellows had once spent five minutes staring at his reflection before he was finally convinced that there was not, despite the writing on the wall, a large piece of spinach in his front teeth.

But Ronicus, with a start, found his finger was moving over the words of a very familiar phrase – _'Fortes fortuna juvat.'_

"Fortune favours the brave." Ronicus whispered. Those were the same words the Vestal had spoken to him. Perhaps his god, or even her deities, was trying to tell him something?

Sighing, Ronicus let his hand fall, and tried to sleep, to forget everything that had happened to him that day.

Yet something told him that it would not be the last time he would meet Kaesa Postumia.

Far from it.

**To be continued...**

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Most major characters have returned from the previous chapter. Below are the new characters introduced this chapter, for anyone who hasn't figured it out, or already have and would like verification.

_**In Order of Appearance/Mention:**_

Pollex Chalybis, _lanista_ of the Ludus Magnus (Steel Toe)

Didia Directa Betiliena, _Virgo Vestalis Maxima_ (Dr. Betty Director)  
Justiana Silana Postumia, _virgo vestalis_ (Joseline 'Joss' Possible)

Monifa of the Nok Tribes (Monique)

Didio Directus Spurius (Sheldon Director, alias 'Gemini')

**Author's Notes**

In the first chapter I've changed the character of Zita Flores to Tara King, as re-watching Zita's episode made me realise that while Ron did notice Zita and went out with her, he remained oblivious to Tara.

Also, for anyone who has a background in Ancient Rome, please rest assured that I _did_ do extensive research for this era, as well as all the rest of the historical eras I'll subsequently be visiting. I realise that Kim's name does not follow proper Roman naming conventions. (Nor does Bonnie's.) However, I had to take some small licenses with history, and I do hope you'll forgive me.

The Latin text for the Vestals' hymn seen in this chapter was taken from the poem by Ovidius. I have the English version for anyone who may be interested, and it provides insight into the creeds of the Vestals' order and why the punishment for unchaste priestesses (such as Bonnie's ancestress) was so severe.


	3. Pax Romanus III

**Rewriting History  
Pax Romanus: Part III  
By: CountessMorgana**

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**"On the tray stood a donkey made of Corinthian bronze, bearing panniers containing olives, white in one and black in the other. Two platters flanked the figure, on the margins of which were engraved Trimalchio's name and the weight of the silver in each. Dormice sprinkled with poppy-seed and honey were served on little bridges soldered fast to the platter, and hot sausages on a silver gridiron, underneath which were damson plums and pomegranate seeds."**

**_The Satyricon by Petronius Arbiter  
_**_**Volume 2 – The Dinner of Trimalchio: Chapter 31**_

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The three carpentum containing the Vestals wheeled through the Roman streets. Dolorrex was at the head of the small procession, clearing the way as he usually did. Upon leaving the sanctum at the Temple prior to their departure, Kaesa and Justiana had assumed they would ride together in the last of the carpentum, as the most junior of the six priestesses.

Surprisingly enough, Betiliena had been waiting for them. It was at her insistence that Justiana be in the last of the two-wheeled carriages with Marcella, and Kaesa sit with the Head Vestal herself. The two Postumias could do nothing but obey, and now Kaesa twisted the hem of her stola in her hands as Betiliena glanced at her sideways from her one eye.

Finally Betiliena spoke. "_Disciplica_. You are, no doubt, wondering why I allowed you to come to the festivities when your conduct earlier merited your exclusion."

"The thought has crossed my mind, Didia Directa," Kaesa admitted.

"And what was your conclusion?" Betiliena asked. Both Vestals leaned back into their cushioned seats as their carpentum began to proceed up a steep slope while Kaesa pondered her answer.

"Based upon your words before our departure from the Temple, you did not wish to lose face before the High Priest of Apollo, _Pontifex Apollonius_. He would surely see the absence of any of our number as an ill reflection on your capacity as High Priestess of our sect, and act upon what he perceived."

A faint smile tugged at the older woman's mouth. "You would think so, Postumia, but my own reasons were but a small fraction of your pardon."

"What do you mean, Didia Directa?"

"Your presence at the celebrations tonight was demanded by the royal wedding party, the bride of which stated quite clearly that unless your soul was in the company of the gods and your mortal remains lying in rest, you were to attend on pain of their extreme displeasure. As well as the end of the peace between Kush and Rome, but that was merely an aside."

Kaesa bit back a laugh. "In brief, you say Monifa was most adamant?"

"She was. It would seem you have a good friend in the future Nubian queen, _disciplica_."

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After the washing of hands and feet as required by custom, the Vestals' entry into the dining hall did not go unnoticed. Loud voices hailed the priestesses as they proceeded to their private _mensa_. An adjourning table housing the members of the Collegium Pontificum was particularly vocal when Didia Directa arrived, leading the rest of the Vestals.

"Betiliena! We thought you might not be coming!" Stephanus Barrius greeted the Head Vestal warmly. A man with an eye patch snorted at Barrius' pronouncement, which Betiliena ignored.

"Why, old friend, did you really believe I would miss the greatest festivities Rome has seen this year?" Betiliena asked with a smile. "I think not! Good to see you again though, Barrius. This year's Mercuralia was a great success!"

"Of course they were!" Stephanus Barrius, High Priest of Mercury, said jokingly. "I organized them – how could they be anything but!"

"Betiliena," the eye-patch wearing man at the Collegium's table sneered.

"Spurius," the Head Vestal said equally coldly.

"In good health, I see. A bit over-dressed, wouldn't you say, _sister_?"

"No more than you are, _brother_," came the Head Vestal's answer, "since you seem well-set to outshine Caesar himself in your garb!"

Didio Directus Spurius Geminianus, High Priest of Apollo, scowled and sat taller in his purple and gold _toga pulla_. "At least none of _my _acolytes have been brought before the Collegium to answer for their actions."

"My Vestals know better than to flout the laws of our Order and Rome. I'm surprised more of your acolytes haven't realised so, with the poor example their High Priest is setting for them."

Spurius Geminianus immediately rose to his feet. "Do you mock me, sister?" he snarled. "Do you show me disrespect? I am your elder!"

"Always, brother," Betiliena hissed. "And as to respect, I do not give to those who demand what they have never earned!"

"Spurius! Betiliena!" Stephanus Barrius snapped. "Sit down! Is this the display of Roman power we give to the Nubians?"

"Of course not, Barrius," Betiliena replied, glaring at her brother. "This isn't over, Spurius."

"By all means," Spurius Geminianus answered icily as he resumed his seat.

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In the interim, Kaesa Antonia had watched the bickering _Directii_ apprehensively when a loud call of her name broke in. The Vestal looked about her, eyes finally alighting on a table draped in white linen where a pair of dusky-skinned people sat, the woman waving vigorously to get her attention.

"Kaesa!" the woman shouted. "Kaesa, come sit over here!"

The man beside her was astonished. "My dear, is that allowed—?"

"She's a Vestal, of course she is! And if she isn't, who's going to reprimand us? Kaesa! Right here!"

"Monifa!" Kaesa finally reached the high table where Monifa and her new husband sat. "You look beautiful! Almost like Nefertiri herself!"

Monifa reached up to pat the traditional Nubian headpiece she wore. "Well, _this_ certainly helps the resemblance. It seems like an age since that day at the Basilica's shops!"

"How could I forget?" Kaesa Postumia remembered well the day she met Monifa of the Nok Tribes. "The merchants at the _Tabernae Novae_ must be rich!"

"Here we go – all talk about clothes and jewels!" Prince Amanikhareqerem grinned.

The two women laughed. "We were browsing the stalls at the Basilica Aemilia," Monifa explained to her husband, "when we both saw the same bolt of silk at a textile merchant. We reached out for it at the same time—"

"You were more than welcome to it," Kaesa broke in, blushing.

"Hush, girl, I'm telling the story! So there was the usual 'you go take it' 'no you go ahead' act from the both of us before I went for the scarlet over the peacock silk." Monifa took in Kaesa's ensemble at that point. "Of which you seem to have bought after all."

"I didn't buy it," Kaesa admitted.

Monifa looked up sharply at that. "Are you saying—?"

"I didn't steal it either! It was a gift from the merchant," Kaesa confessed. "Apparently I saved his nephew from being thrown off the cliff rocks five moons ago."

"You and your rescuing," Monifa shook her head. "Between those fortunate souls and their families, I would think half of Rome were indebted to you! I wish I were in your place, Kaesa; I'd never want for anything!"

"I wish that as well," Prince Amanikhareqerum said. When his new wife and her friend looked at him in surprise, he explained, "With the way you spend, I have the strangest feeling you'll be bankrupting the royal treasury in a sennight."

"I'll keep an eye on her, if you'd like," Kaesa offered, taking advantage of the moment to study Monifa's groom. Tall, young, not particularily lacking in looks, and the build of a soldier as befit the heir to the kingdom of Kush.

"A generous offer, Vestalis, but I'm afraid I must decline," the prince said. "Nothing save a lack of gold can stop Monifa in a vendor's forum. I am resigned to my fate."

Kaesa giggled – she liked this young man, and his dry wit. He seemed to suit Monifa well. Monifa herself winked at Kaesa before turning back to Amanikhareqerem. "We're still going to talk about clothes and jewels, husband," Monifa warned. "Over your protests, of course."

"That doesn't bode well. Shall I make an early bid to escape?"

"Hmm. Wait until they serve dessert."

"In other words, I'm stuck here?" Amanikhareqerem looked horrified. "For the entirety of the feast? With no reprieve? The gods are surely not so cruel!"

"Afraid so. Live with it." Monifa quipped, turning back to her friend.

"_Women._" The prince grumbled good-naturedly as slaves brought out the first dishes of the banquet. "Will you at least cease your conversation long enough to eat? Or do you have some strange and rare power to dine and talk all at once?"

An olive chucked harmlessly at his head was the only reply.

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"A toast!" the Emperor shouted. So far during the banquet he had toasted to gladiators, the Colosseum, Jupiter, Juno, Minerva, the whole Roman pantheon, the Jews, and his wife's handmaiden Addinia Linnia, which said wife found rather interesting.

She drummed her fingers on the polished table in an irate tattoo, hoping to convey her irritation with her husband's remark. "Addinia?"

The attendant in question could almost feel her face redden. Caesar had toasted her? Oh, this was not good. At the edge of her peripheral vision, the Augusta noticed the flushed visage, and resolved to investigate the matter once the Nubian royal couple had retired for the night.

"More wine!" Dracus Maximus bellowed, red-faced as he waved his cup in the air. "More wine, I say!"

Gordia Femina raised her eyebrow. More wine? With the rate he was going, she would have to call in the guards to drag his drunken carcass to his rooms by the night's end. A fine example Caesar was displaying of Roman customs and etiquette – the Nubian delegation was staring at the Emperor with expressions ranging from amusement to annoyance to outright disgust.

"More wine!" Her husband shouted yet again. A slave hurried over with a full pitcher and set it on the table deferentially. Gordia Femina knew what would come next, and sighed.

"Addinia!" she called to her attendant woman. "A word."

The golden-haired Addinia Linnia was quick to obey the command. "My lady?"

"Over here," Gordia Femina ordered, directing her maidservant so that the girl was leaning over the couch from behind it, and between her and Caesar.

Just in time. The Emperor, having refilled his cup, took a great swig and waved his cup again. Wine splattered on the table, in the dishes, and over Addinia's perfectly coiffed hair and immaculate stola.

"Oh!" The servant gave a cry of consternation. Gordia Femina smirked.

"Thank you, Addinia. You're dismissed," the Augusta said airily, waving her dismayed attendant off.

Addinia gave her a look that was half-rage, half-scorn and did as she was told. Gordia Femina frowned. If there was one thing she couldn't tolerate, it was dissension in the ranks.

"Scribe!" she called. "Where are you? Scribe!"

"I'm here, Augusta," came a voice.

"Oh, there you are. Take this down – that for displaying discontentment as a result of performing her duties, the attendant woman Addinia Linna is hereby granted ten lashes. By order of the Augusta, Furia Gordia Femina, _ante diem Kalends Iunius._"

"'... Gordia Femina, the day before the first of June,'" the scribe muttered aloud as he wrote on his ever-present diptych.

"And scribe, add a reminder to look into any of Addinia's subservient activities."

Nodding, he glanced at the lady. "Will there be anything else, Augusta?"

"Not at the moment. Dismissed," Gordia Femina told him, sipping from her own wine cup.

What wouldn't she give to rule the Empire openly, instead of using her damned husband as a puppet to further her goals...

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As dessert and drinks were served, and dancing began, a small huddle of Senators, patricians, Pontifices and others of high rank gathered by the veranda. They were not discussing the new Nubian alliance, nor were they speaking of the battles in Brittanica, nor the latest complaints from the plebeian ranks in their bid to gain more concessions the patricians had long restricted to their own class.

What they spoke of could very easily cost them their lives if word reached the wrong ears: Overthrowing Dracus Maximus for the good of Rome.

"It is absolutely necessary! He has all of the worst traits we feared may rise again – Nero's madness, Caligula's lust – but in one man!" Stephanus Barrius said. "We ought to have killed him years ago."

"Deposing Caesar is one thing," Manius Simius Orientus mused. "Replacing him will be an entirely more delicate matter."

Stephanus Barrius scoffed. "Because of the Augusta?"

"Not quite. Should Caesar fall, Gordia Femina will be powerless. Ever since her marriage there has been no sign of an heir."

"Perhaps Juno saw fit to strike her barren," Stephanus Barrius pondered.

Manius Simius shrugged eloquently. "Had the Augusta borne a son, our plan would be in ruins, for she would surely seize power again as a regent. Her control will only last as long as her husband is alive. Once he is dead, she will be ousted by the people – their dislike of her is palpable in some circles."

"Caesar's successor must be a legitimate relative in the male line, no matter how distant," a patrician stated. "The people will never accept anyone else."

"What about his cousin, Edlectus?" Another senator queried.

The others stared. "Who?" Manius Simius asked.

"Edlectus. You know, that tall man with the ridiculously long hair, poor speech, and penchant for racing in the Circus Maximus – and outside of it, if I remember. Nearly killed Lucius Flavius once with his speeding chariot."

"Ah, _him_," Manius Simius said in a tone of great disgust. "Yes, I recall him. He's dead."

"What? I had not heard of this!" said the patrician. "When?"

"Surely you didn't know," Manius Simius said coolly. "It only happened six months ago."

"I was in Iberia six months ago," the patrician retorted.

"And _I_ was in Neapolis," the other senator put in. "So he is dead?"

"Killed by a speeding chariot," Stephanus Barrius affirmed.

"Well, when a man tempts the Fates like that..." The patrician paused to think. "Wasn't there another? His father died some time ago, but the son, he should nearly be of age now. Felix?"

Manius Simius' face lit up in recognition. "Ah! You mean Decius Julius Renatus Felix!"

"That's the one."

Stephanus Barrius scowled. "He's a cripple."

A man in a praetor's robe frowned. "I thought our custom was to drown deformed babes at birth."

"He wasn't born a cripple." Stephanus Barrius snapped. "Boy lost the use of his legs as a child in his sixth summer. He was in the Forum with his father when struck from behind by a speeding chariot. Killed Renatus Sulla, but Felix lived."

"Do the Fates insist on plaguing Caesar's kin with speeding chariots?" the praetor exclaimed in disbelief.

"It would seem so," Manius Simius said dryly.

"Must we kill him?" a consul asked. "Before he was Caesar, he was my friend. If there is a chance—"

"There is no chance of redemption from this man," Stephanus Barrius broke in. "I am sorry, Postumius, but we cannot allow him to live."

"Then I cannot take part in this," Iacomus Timothus Postumius Ventor said quietly. "I will not aid you, nor will I seek to stop you. Do what you will without me."

Manius Simius scoffed. "You will not do what is right? Caesar endangers Rome."

"You are not a father, Simius," Postumius Ventor said with conviction. "I will not do what will endanger my sons or wife, be it right or wrong."

"Now see here—" The praetor began angrily, but Stephanus Barrius broke in.

"The Vestal is truly your daughter, Postumius," he said. "Go."

Postumius Ventor nodded his thanks and left the group, disappearing into the crowd of revellers.

"Will he hold to his silence?" Manius Simius questioned Barrius.

"I have known Postumius Ventor for many years. He had never failed to keep his oaths. He will not betray us now."

"If I may speak, Manius, Pontifex?" It was the other senator from earlier. "I also do not wish to remain."

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" the praetor demanded. "You are wasted as a senator, Acarinus – go back to studying your insects!"

"I intend to. I do not believe I can proceed further down this path than I have already. I hold no love for Caesar, but I am a scholar, a man of peaceful interests, not of action. The less in your circle when the time draws nearer is better for us all."

Barrius eyed the small man with no small amount of distrust. "And you will—"

"Keep my silence? Yes. I have no wife or children to tell, and my servants are deaf-mutes all. I will retire to Neapolis until word of your success." Acarinus bowed to the others before he too was lost in the throng below.

"This won't work with only four of us, you realise that?" the praetor said after a moment.

"I could ask the Directii..." Stephanus Barrius mused. "If there are no objections. Manius? Rodeghan? Sennius?"

"I have none," Vallius Rodeghan said.

Servius Sennius the Elder was intrigued. "That just may work."

For a patrician, Manius gave a very plebeian-like snort as he glanced at the bickering siblings. "Oh, they'll work. If they don't kill each other first."

Stephanus Barrius shrugged, turning away to look out at the city below. "Fine. Who's going to ask them?"

Manius had a very pleasant smile on his face as he replied, "Thank you for volunteering, Stephanus. They _are_ your fellows in the College of Priests, after all. Should you need us, I will be at the wine pitcher."

"And I with the musicians," Rodeghan said quickly.

"And I will be lecturing my son," Sennius the Elder said, strolling away. "Good luck!"

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Before a nonplussed Stephanus Barrius could make his move, a stranger appeared at the doorway, dressed in the travel-stained clothes of a _tribunus laticlavius_, the second-in-command of a legion. The wedding couple froze, and the guards stepped forward to stop the man, only relenting when Caesar raised a hand. With all heads turning to follow his progress the military officer made a beeline for the Imperial table, where he bent and muttered quietly in Dracus Maximus' ear.

The Emperor started, and stared at the newcomer. "You are sure of this?"

"I have just journeyed from there, Caesar, without rest, to ensure the news reached you before anyone else."

"You have Caesar's utmost thanks, Primus Gordio Herculius," the Emperor said, speech only slightly slurred as he staggered to his feet. By now, everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch the unfolding events. Dracus Maximus beamed and announced,

"Glad tidings from the East! Our armies have won a great victory over the cretins at Sparta!"

Primus Gordio Herculius shifted uncomfortably. "Ah, Caesar, it was the Spartans at Crete."

The Emperor glared. "That's what I said!" After a brief moment of lost equilibrium, where he almost toppled into the fruit platter, Dracus Maximus continued.

"Scribe! Make a note of this." When the diptych was opened and ready, Caesar shouted,

"It seems we in Rome have much to celebrate! We have had our most illustrious victories in Britannica, and our most recent victories over the Spartan cretins, and this most beneficial and auspicious marriage." Here Caesar sloshed his wine cup in the direction of the wedding party, drenching Gordio Herculius as a result. "Ah. Sorry, brother.

"In honour of these events, I hereby declare, effective immediately, ONE HUNDRED DAYS OF GAMES!"

**To be continued...**

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And so it begins. As usual, anyone returning will have been mentioned previously, and anyone who plays any sort of role in this narrative has finally been introduced and given page space. For the new characters this chapter – and there are quite a few more than usual:

_**In Order of Appearance/Mention:**_

Didio Directus Spurius Geminianus, _Pontifex Apollonius_, High Priest of Apollo (Sheldon Director, _alias_ 'Gemini')  
Stephanus Barrius Scipio, _Pontifex Mercurius_, High Priest of Mercury (Mr. Steve Barkin)

Monifa of Kush (Monique)  
Addinia Linnia, _attendant to Gordia Femina_ (Adrenna Lynn)

Manius Simius Orientus, _senator_ (Monkey Fist)  
Servius Sennius the Elder (Senor Senior Sr.)  
Vallius Rodeghan (King Wallace of Rodeghan)

Iacomus Timothus Postumius Ventor (Dr. James Timothy Possible)  
Aulus Aelius Acarinus, _senator and insect scholar_ (Dr. Acari)  
Primus Gordio Herculius, _Caesar's brother-in-law_, brother to Gordia Femina (Hego)

Edlectus, _Caesar's late cousin_ (Motor Ed)  
Decius Julius Renatus Felix (Felix Renton)


End file.
